


The Sting of Loss

by Kaitie



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Death, Depression, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaitie/pseuds/Kaitie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony finds himself more deeply affected by Coulson's death than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sting of Loss

Tony lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling with blurry, unfocused eyes. One arm hung off, still clinging to the bottle of scotch, not even a mouthful remaining. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been lying there or how long he’d been drunk.

He was never one for sentimentality and avoided emotional attachments, but apparently he hadn’t been doing a very good job. Even he could see that he’d been in a downward spiral since the Avengers had saved the world from Loki and his army of Chitauri. There’d been the usual the-worlds-not-going-to-end elation and adrenaline-fueled celebration afterward, but once they all went their separate ways, Tony was left alone to dwell on just what, and who, they had lost.

He brought the bottle to his lips and finished what was left before flinging it aside, hearing it shatter on the floor among the remains of the bottles before. Grimacing, Tony closed his eyes against the pounding in his head and the memories that his mind couldn’t seem to stop replaying.

“Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?” Steve had asked, seeing the pain that Tony had tried so hard to hide.

He had snapped back about them not being soldiers and tried to deflect any idea that he might actually care, but Steve could see right through him. They all could, and he hated it. Years of maintaining his ‘Tony Stark doesn’t give a shit’ façade and somehow it just didn’t work on them.

The first one had come after Tony didn’t show up to the funeral. Some thought that he was just blowing it off like he did so many other things, but the team knew better. They had sent Bruce, still dressed in his funeral finest. He found Tony exactly where he was now, but only a bottle and a half in and watching the shadows move down the wall as the sun set.

“It was a nice service” Bruce had said gently, sitting on the couch and placing his hand on Tony’s shoulder. He just grunted and rolled over. Bruce sat with him for a few minutes, keeping his hand there, trying to comfort Tony with his presence. After awhile, when it became apparent that Tony would continue ignoring him, Bruce got up quietly, cleaned away some of the mess, and headed for the door.

“If you want to talk, you know I’m here for you” he said, leaving Tony to mourn in the only way he knew how.

Well he didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to be left the hell alone. What could he even say? That he wasn’t sure why Phil’s death had rocked him to his very core? He felt like his guts had been ripped out and tossed to the ground. Sure, they’d had a little bit of history, but they were both busy with their own lives. There had always been something about him though, Tony admitted to himself. He had been drawn to the man. The way Phil didn’t care who Tony was, didn’t take any of the shit that made most other people run.

Natasha showed up the next day, looking reluctant to be there. He had only gotten up when necessary and was back on the couch, fresh bottle in hand. Seeing her looking him up and down, Tony wondered briefly just how awful he looked. Natasha kept any reaction to herself, so it was hard to tell, but he bet he wasn’t looking his best. Taking a closer look at her, Tony decided it didn’t matter because she looked just about as bad as he felt.

Her eyes were red and puffy, dark circles appearing underneath. He wondered how she’d try to convince him to get up, but instead she surprised him by grabbing the whiskey he was currently working on. Downing a third of the bottle, she hissed at the burn in her throat as she squeezed in next to him on the couch.

They lay like that for awhile, neither one talking, just sharing their grief. Feeling her warmth curled up against him, Tony knew that he should probably be ashamed of himself. If anyone had been closest to Phil, it was likely Natasha. He didn’t even know how long they’d worked together, but it had to have been quite a while, Tony gathered. He, on the other hand, had only known Phil a brief time, and not even that well.  The thought still didn’t lessen the pit of sorrow he felt inside.

When the room grew dark with evening, Natasha got up and walked silently to the door.

“You can’t do this forever” she said simply, letting the door click shut behind her.

Day three and he knew who they’d be sending next. The one person he really couldn’t deal with. It was late afternoon when the knock came at the door, but he ignored it. Then again. Finally, Jarvis spoke up.

“Sir, Captain Rogers is at the door.”

Tony didn’t even respond, the effort of forming words seeming like too much in his inebriated state. All was quiet for a moment and he had started to hope that Steve had left when he heard an alarmingly loud bang on the door.

“Bastards broke down m’door” he slurred to himself, watching detachedly as Steve busted in.

“C’mon Tony, you can’t keep doing this to yourself” Steve said, striding over and grabbing Tony by the shoulders.

“G’off me” Tony growled, pushing him away but falling off the couch in the process. He groaned as his head bounced off the floor and sent sparks flying through his already impaired vision.

“Look at yourself” Steve said. He knelt down next to Tony and lowered his voice. “He wouldn’t want you to do this. To mourn him like this.”

“How would you know what he’d want? You barely knew him. I barely knew him!” Tony yelled pushing himself up off the floor. He stomped across the room angrily, running his fingers through his hair.

“Then why is this so hard for you?” Steve asked genuinely.

Tony stopped, the answer there in his mind but he was unwilling to admit it.

“Just leave me the hell alone. I don’t know why no one on this team can mind their own damn business” Tony shouted, storming down into his workshop where he could lock Steve out. Steve just rolled his eyes and sighed, figuring that at least Tony was off the couch. Taking advantage of the situation, he grabbed the last few bottles of booze lying around and took them as he left.

Sobering up and majorly pissed off, Tony was in no mood for yet another visitor. Fury couldn’t care less what Tony felt like though and felt no guilt in overriding Tony’s security and walking right in.

“You certainly know how to make things difficult, Stark” Fury said, glaring at Tony from the doorway.

“So I’ve been told” he snapped, not unlike a sullen teenager at this point. He felt like shit, was out of alcohol, and had been subjected to a near constant stream of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes busting into his home. He was over it, but there didn’t seem to be a whole lot he could do to stop them.

“I tried to be nice, send some friends” Fury said, trying to be patient, but Tony just snorted. “So then I sent Captain Rogers, who I thought could either convince you to stop acting like a child or annoy you into getting up and out of the house, but I underestimated your stubborn ass. So fine, you’ve forced my hand.” Fury said, heading for the door. “Let’s go.”

“No. Just get out.”

“Get up and get moving or I swear I’ll get Rogers back in here and have him carry you out” Fury threatened. “I have something to show you.”

“Fine” Tony huffed, reluctantly following Fury out the door.

Once on their way, Tony tried to ask where they were headed, but Fury just ignored him and Tony wisely decided to keep his mouth shut for once. He didn’t feel much like talking anyway and couldn’t see what Fury had to show him that could be so important.

Arriving at their destination, Tony found himself at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. _Yeah, because if anywhere was going to lift his spirits, it was going to be here_ , Tony thought snarkily to himself.

Fury could tell that Tony was curious as to why they were there, but he kept quiet as they walked into the elevator and he hit the button for the fifth floor. As the doors opened, they headed down a short, empty hallway and Fury simply gestured to the door on their left.

Tony paused, looking at the door. It was unmarked except for the number 201, and he couldn’t imagine what was behind it that required him practically being dragged here. He raised an eyebrow at Fury, but just got a blank stare in return. Reluctantly he turned the knob and stepped into the room.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks, hand still gripping the doorknob. He let out an audible gasp at the sight of Coulson, lying with his eyes closed on a hospital bed. Tony blinked rapidly, sure that this was some leftover, alcohol-fueled hallucination.

“Phil?” he choked out, moving slowly to his bedside.

“I thought my name was Agent” Phil said sleepily, stirring at Tony’s voice.

Tony just stood staring. He reached out slowly towards Phil, wanting to touch him and make sure he was real, but his hand stopped just before making contact.

“How?” was all he could manage, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Agent Coulson was injured in his run-in with Loki, that much was true. But we decided it would be best if Loki thought he was dead and his death was the catalyst that brought you all together as a team. After the mission was over and Agent Coulson healed, he was to be send out again on another mission in which his being deceased would come in handy, but that’s classified” Fury explained from behind Tony.

“Were you ever going to tell us?” Tony hissed, spinning to glare at Fury. He walked over, jabbing a finger into Fury’s chest. “You let us go on thinking he was dead. Burying him. Mourning him.”

Fury just shrugged. The job often called for difficult decisions and he wasn’t going to apologize for it. “You were all going to be told once the second mission was completed. Unfortunately, you seemed hell-bent on destroying yourself before then, so here” he gestured at Phil. “Now pull yourself together” he said, leaving the two men alone.

Tony found himself staring again and Phil just stared back. “Sorry” he said awkwardly, not sure what else he could say.

Tony just shook his head, moving to sit in the chair at Phil’s side.

“No, it’s not your fault. I just…” He trailed off, at a loss for what say. He was so relieved to see Phil safe and sound, but didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself now.

Phil smiled and shrugged, “I really didn’t think anyone would take it so hard. I mean, I thought…you know. I wouldn’t really be missed.”

Tony gaped at him. “Are you kidding? Natasha’s a wreck. I haven’t seen Barton, but I’m sure he is too. Everyone mourned you. I heard your funeral drew quite the crowd.”

“You didn’t go?” Phil asked softly, avoiding Tony’s eyes.

“Oh you know me, I –“ Tony paused, unable to continue with typical flippant response. “I just couldn’t” he finished, embarrassed by the emotion he couldn’t keep out of his voice. He stared down at his hands, feeling Phil’s gaze on him.

Phil couldn’t help looking at Tony, shocked by his words. He’d had feelings for Tony pretty much since they’d met, but never thought he stood a chance with the famous playboy. Mustering up all the courage he could, he reached over and grasped one of Tony’s hands, brushing his thumb over the rough knuckles.

Tony looked up, surprised and unsure. Not a look often seen on the face of the famous Tony Stark. Phil smiled again, trying to hide his own uncertainty.

Tony moved his gaze from Phil’s face back to their hands clasped together on the bed. Suddenly, surprising even himself, he leaned forward and pressed him lips firmly against Phil’s, placing his free hand gently on the side of Phil’s face.

Shocked, Phil sat frozen for a moment. Recovering quickly he returned the kiss and wrapped his arms around Tony, pulling him closer. Tony’s tongue flicked at Phil’s lips and Phil met it with his own. Still leaning awkwardly over the bed, Tony attempted to pull Phil towards him and deepen the kiss, but the movement pulled at Phil’s healing wound and he let out a pained groan.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry” Tony gasped, eyes wide, afraid that he’d reopened the injury.

“No, no, it’s fine. Just pulled at the stitches a little bit. Definitely worth it though” he said, feeling better than he had in a long time. Happy as he was at this revelation, he wasn’t sure what it really meant though.

“So…” Phil started, unsure of how to ask and afraid of spooking the notoriously relationship-phobic Tony.

“Oh hell, I don’t know” Tony laughed. He could feel the stupid grin on his face, but he didn’t care. He had found out what losing Phil felt like and he didn’t want to ever feel that again. He planted another quick kiss on Phil’s lips.

“We’ll figure it out.”

 


End file.
